Like a Melody
by Impextoo
Summary: “A pretty girl is like a melody that haunts you day and night.” A new addition to the Kent family is sickly, stubborn, and challenging. Lex Luthor does not like to be challenged. CHAPTER 5 UP!
1. It Appears You Need My Help

**Title: "Like a Melody"**

**Summary: "A pretty girl is like a melody/That haunts you day and night." A new addition to the Kent family is sickly, stubborn, and challenging. Lex Luthor does not like to be challenged.**

**Author Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER! My notes are essential to understanding this story, mainly because (1) I have only seen the first season of Smallville and (2) I have only a rudimentary understanding of Superman canon. God helps us all. Anyway, this is my first Smallville story so flame away.**

**Major props to the Smallville Fanfiction Resources! **

**THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FANFICTION

* * *

**

_**Chapter One**_

"_Well then, it appears you need my help."  
--The Merchant of Venice, I.3  
_

With the last bit of sunlight streaming through the windows, Martha Kent prepared dinner. On that July Saturday, both her son and her husband had been outside all day, toiling at the farm work under the hot Kansas sun. Just as the timer went off for the pasta, the house phone started to jangle loudly. Sighing, Martha turned off the stove and reach for the phone.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to Martha Kent?"

She blinked in surprise. The voice—clearly male—sounded Southern, something not often heard in Smallville. Probably just a telemarketer. "This is Mrs. Kent."

"Hello, Martha," the man answered with a relieved voice. "This is Sam Marshall." He gave a worried chuckle. "I was afraid that I had the wrong number."

"Sam?" Martha smiled, "This certainly is a surprise!" Well, that might be a bit of an understatement. Despite being her brother-in-law, Sam had never bothered to keep up with the Kent family. The holiday newsletter was the only correspondence the Kents had received from him in years—and it was his daughter, not Sam, that wrote the newsletter. "How have things been with you?'

"Oh, pretty good. With the sudden increase of military operations, being a contractor is an excellent job to have," Sam's voice floated through the receiver, a warm baritone that spoke of his childhood in Alabama. "What about things on the farm? I read about Clark's rescue of the boy billionaire last fall."

Martha gave a tense little chuckle. "Yes, it was…something else. He's doing pretty well, especially after his first year of high school." If Sam had _read_ about that, then… "Are you living in Metropolis now?"

"Yes. My company's headquarters are in Metropolis, so Kate and I moved here, just in time for her to start her freshmen year in high school."

Martha did some quick math in her head. Sam's daughter, Kate, was about three years older than Clark, so she must have just graduated. "So what are Kate's plans? Is she going to be going to college?"

"Only part time. Up at Metropolis University."

"Part time?" Martha frowned a bit at that news. It wasn't as if Sam couldn't afford to send her fulltime, to any college. "Has she decided to do both work and school?"

"Well…that's actually why I'm calling you."

That figured. Sam needed a reason to do anything, and had never been particularly forthcoming with any personal information. He was a reserved individual but at times, it could be tiresome.

"Did Kate ever mention her condition?"

"What?"

"Her condition. You know," Sam's voice dropped to a quieter volume, "in all those Christmas letters she sent out. Anything at all?"

"Sam, I really don't know what you're talking about," Martha told him. "You're going to have to give me more to work with if you want me to guess."

Sam sighed. "Cancer. Leukemia, to be specific. Since she was seventeen."

"Two years?" Martha asked weakly, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter. The last two holiday letters contained the usual cheery sentiments—not even a hint of sickness. Martha was finding it difficult to breathe. Despite the distance between the two families, Martha always had some affection for Kate—she was, after all, her sister's only child.

"In the beginning it wasn't that bad. It just started out as a persistence cough," Sam said. "Then it got worse."

"How bad?"

Another heavy sigh. "You and I both know the toll cancer takes on a person. She's lost a lot of weight, developed anemia, and chemotherapy…"

"All that pretty black hair…"

"Yeah."

It was too much, too fast. In her bright kitchen, Martha felt very much out of place. At least the doctors had caught it early this time.

"Is there anything we can do? Jonathan and I?" Martha asked. Never mind that she hadn't seen her niece in years. Martha just couldn't do nothing.

"Remember what I said about a government contractor being a high-demand job?" Sam sounded almost as if he were mad at himself for that fact. "The government's got me flying all over the damn place, all the damn time. I'm…worried. About Kate. The last bout of chemo wasn't kind to her, and I don't want to leave her by herself."

Martha could hear the reluctance in Sam's voice. It must be killing his pride to have to ask this, to feel like he couldn't care for his daughter like he should. Martha knew that he must be in dire straits to have to ask anyone for help.

"What are you asking?"

"If it's possible—I mean, if it's not too much of a strain, could Kate…could she perhaps stay with you?"

Martha gaped a bit, before finding her voice again. "For how long?"

"I've got to go abroad—bases in Europe and such. She needs someone to look after her—"

"Sam, please understand—there's the farm, and all the stuff Clark gets into. Jonathan and I simply don't have the time to play 'babysitter' for another teenager."

"Kate doesn't need a babysitter," Sam sounded a little indignant. "I'm concerned about her fainting spells…and getting her to eat…." A frustrated growl was growing in his voice. "I just want—"

"Sam." Martha interrupted his rant, a small smile on her face. "Let me talk to Jonathan and Clark. I will get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Martha," Sam's relieved voice drifted through the receiver. "Just—thanks."

Martha placed the phone back in its cradle. Looking out the back door, she could see Jonathan and Clark trudging up to the house as the sun sank below the horizon. Despite Clark's superhuman abilities—or perhaps because of them—Martha nevertheless felt motherly pangs of worry for her son. No parent should ever have to agonize over failing their child.

Jonathan would understand.

* * *

**The review button. Go ahead, click it. You know you want to.**


	2. Crosses, Cares, and Grief

**Title: "Like a Melody"**

**Summary: "A pretty girl is like a melody/That haunts you day and night." A new addition to the Kent family is sickly, stubborn, and challenging. Lex Luthor does not like to be challenged.**

**Author Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER! Much love to my reviewers--yes, Lex'll be in the story eventually but I've got to establish my OC before the good stuff happens! For clarification on when this all takes place: Lionel is blind, the Talon is under Lana's management, and Lex has married (and divorced) Desiree. So this little fic takes off after Episode "Heat."  
**

**Thank heaven for Alainn--if it weren't for her love of all things Smallville, I would not have written this! **

**THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FANFICTION**

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

_"Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,  
Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, and grief."_  
_ --Richard the Second, II.2_

At eighteen, Kate Marshall felt that she was a reasonably mature individual. She had always been a good student, and barring any overt attacks of procrastination, had turned everything in on time. Community service was one of her top priorities and politics were an area of moderate interest to her. She made sure the dishes were washed, the laundry was cleaned, and the dirty towels were kept off the floor. Yes, Kate Marshall was reasonably mature.

That did not stop her from stomping her foot and yelling at her father.

"I cannot believe that you called her!" Kate slammed a pot onto the countertop with a resounding clang. With a hand still fishing for the lid in the abyss of the cabinets, Kate managed to glare at her father. "We hardly even know the Kents. What were you thinking? That you were just going to drop me on their doorstep?"

"Don't get so upset," Sam dismissed his daughter's outburst with a wave of his hand. He leaned against the kitchen doorframe tiredly. "I'm not going to abandon you. I just feel that you need some looking after—"

"Dad, I'm eighteen, not eight. I don't need a nanny to clean up after me," Kate muttered angrily as her fingers finally grazed the lid. Setting it on the counter, she picked up the pot and took it over the sink for water. "And besides, there are people in Metropolis that I could live with. Did you ever think to ask Chris?"

Sam blanched. "Chris is a nice boy, but he's…"

"Gay?"

"I was going to say confused."

"I dunno, Dad, I think the eyeliner and mascara is pretty solid evidence for a homosexual lifestyle," Kate grinned cheekily before her scowl resurfaced, "Chris has his own apartment—fairly close to the hospital," she shot her father a look, "and let's not forget he is financially stable. No worries about being booted out."

Sam ran his fingers through his thinning hair, looking anywhere but at Kate. "You are not a charity case. I won't have you living off of your friends—"

"—but you are willing to have me mooch off family—"

"—furthermore," Sam spoke over his daughter, "the Kents lead a very stable, very normal life out in Smallville—"

"Wait a minute." Kate held up her hand to stop him. "Smallville? You're sending me to Smallville?" She closed her eyes, using her other hand to pinch the bridge of her nose as she tried to calm herself down. "The Meteor Capital of the World. I'm doomed to live out the rest of my days in some hokey tourist trap."

Sam ignored his daughter's theatrics. "Could be worse. Smallville used to be the Creamed Corn Capital of the World."

"Brilliant, Dad, just brilliant."

Kate stubbornly set her chin, a tactic that effectively ended the conversation, as Sam knew from experience. From his vantage point, the kitchen seemed almost too large for Kate. It was all clean lines and neutral tones while she was all awkward angles and pasty white. There was a definite slulmp to her shoulders as she twiddled with the stove burners and, to Sam's eye, a certain lethargy to her movements. If Sam had any poetic aspirations, he would have likened Kate to a flower withering in the city.

Sam Marshall did not like poetry.

"Shove over," Sam said gruffily, elbowing his way in beside the stove. Kate just shrugged indifferently and set herself to the task of making salads. Judging from the amount of food she had set out, Kate clearly intended to eat tonight. Kate always had a love for cooking—especially the part where you got to eat your creations—so it had been a cruel blow when she had to fight nausea and loss of appetite.

"I can tell when people are staring at me," Kate said, her back to her father. Just another wonderful side effect of cancer. "Anything troubling you? Other than my impending exile, of course."

"Hardly exile. You're going to live in some idyllic little country town while I'm gone. What's wrong with that?" Sam asked.

"Because I'm living with strangers. Because I'm leaving my friends. Because I'm constantly reminded of my disease-ridden state," Kate bitterly spat. "Would you like me to think of any more reasons?"

At that moment, Sam would've given anything to have his wife back. Anne had always been the comforter, the one to dry Kate's tears. But Anne had been gone for a very long time.

Abandoning the pot, Sam wrapped his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "I just…I want you to be happy, to be safe. I want someone to take as good of care of you as I would. Someone to nag you about eating, to worry about you when you feel ill, to feel panicked when you have a fainting spell."

Kate nodded, sniffling a bit. "And you think that someone is the Kents?"

Sam hugged her tight. "I know that it's the Kents."

They stood there for a moment, before Kate lightly tapped her father.

"Dad, the pot's boiling over."

* * *

**The review button's calling you. Go on. Give in to the dark side.**  



	3. Pursuing the Horizon

**Title: "Like a Melody"**

**Summary: "A pretty girl is like a melody/That haunts you day and night." A new addition to the Kent family is sickly, stubborn, and challenging. Lex Luthor does not like to be challenged.**

**Author Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER! I just about died when I saw all the reviews! It's so encouraging when people actually like my OCs--and thankfully, no one has referred to her as a Mary Sue. Anyway, this chapter was the hardest to write thus far, because Clark is just so...one dimensional. I'm just used to complicated individuals and motives, and Clark somtimes isn't so complicated. Ah well. Do enjoy.  
**

**THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FANFICTION**

* * *

_**Chapter Three**_

"_I saw a man pursuing the horizon."  
--Stephen Crane_

The distant sound of a car rumbling down caught Clark's attention as he walked to the barn, his arms wrapped around a cardboard box. A wide grin split his face at the sight of a silver Lamborghini pulling into his driveway. Stopping outside of the barn, Clark waited for the driver to cut the engine and emerge from the sleekly designed interior.

"Moving out, Clark?" Lex asked as he slammed his car door closed. "Or have you just decided to live in the loft fulltime?"

"No, just cleaning out the guest bedroom," Clark answered as he entered the barn. He set the box onto of the other two just inside. "Mom's been using it as a junk room for years, so there's quite a lot of stuff to clear out."

"Any particular reason?" Lex peered into one of the boxes curiously, noting the odd collection of curios.

"We've got company coming to stay. Some cousin from Metropolis."

Lex looked mildly interested. "Is there any chance in hell I might know this cousin?"

Clark laughed. "Nope. She's not from Kansas. Her father was in the military so she's lived all over the place."

"She?" Lex smirked. "Maybe I'll get to know her."

Clark fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Unless you have some deep-seated desire for my father _and_ her father to come after you with shotguns, I wouldn't suggest it."

"No loss to me. I've got plenty of…associates to keep myself suitably entertained."

Clark frowned at Lex. It didn't take a mental heavyweight to figure out the kind of life Lex had led in Metropolis. As a boy billionaire, he could afford to buy all the fast cars and easy women he wanted. Clark could certainly see the allure, but he couldn't understand how someone could do that indefinitely.

"I still need to assemble the spare bed. I guess…," Clark scratched his head uncertainly. "You do have time for a drink, right? No major crisis to worry about?"

"I've got time," Lex replied with practiced ease. He folllowed Clark to the yellow farmhouse before asking, "You never did mention why your cousin's coming to visit--or her name."

Leave it to Lex to ask the one question that Clark wasn't allowed to answer. Mom had explicitly told him to withhold information on Kate's illness. It was Kate's decision on who to tell and when. When Clark had pressed the matter, Mom just said, "Some people have an issue being known as a cancer patient. Others don't."

"Still with me?"

"Yeah, sorry," Clark shook his head, snapping out of his reverie. "It's Kate Marshall."

"Kate...," Lex repeated slowly, letting the syllable roll off of his tongue. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Don't much care for it myself. It lacks dramatic flair."

Clark did roll his eyes at that. "Well, we can't all be named after world conquerors."

"Clark, you disappoint me," Lex shook his head sadly, "Have you never heard of Catherine the Great?"

"Nope. You're talking to a Kansas farmboy, remember?" Clark reminded him as he pushed open the screen door. He could tell what was coming—more random and useless trivia, courtesy of Lex.

"Pity. Her Imperial Majesty Ekaterina II Aleksejevna, Empress and Autocrat of all the Russias—"

"I though she was named Catherine the Great."

Lex gave him a sour look. "That's her name when you anglicize it. She didn't conquer the world but she did westernize Russia. An enlightened despot, if you will."

"Whatever."

"I'm just trying to give you some culture, Clark," Lex stole an apple from the basket on the table. He took a large bite out of the fruit, chomping loudly.

"Culture, huh?" Clark asked dryly at the obnoxious sound. Lex rarely ventured into the house so it was amusing to see him lounging in the Kent kitchen. Clark was sure that every newspaper editor in the world would sell their mothers just for a snapshot of Lex inelegantly gnawing on an apple.

"Still waiting for you to answer the other part of my question," Lex looked at Clark expectantly, having finally swallowed.

"You mean why she's coming?" Clark rummaged through the refrigerator, trying to by himself some time. He hadn't bothered to think of a cover lie yet for Kate. Ignoring Lex's irritated look, Clark asked "What do you want? Water, apple juice, milk—"

"Water's fine."

Clark tossed Lex a bottled water. "Well, I think Mom said it was a financial issue," Clark fudged. "She's working and going to college, so money's tight." Certainly a plausible explanation, one that Lex wouldn't probe too deeply.

Lex had his thinking face on—not always a good sign. "She's at Metropolis University right?" At Clark's nod, Lex's brow furrowed, "If she's in financial straits, the school usually has programs available to lower income families. Loans, grants, and the like. Do both of her parents work?"

"Er…no," Clark ducked his head back into the refrigerator, under the pretense of looking for his own drink. "It's a single parent family."

"All the more reason that she should be receiving some form of financial aid!" Lex scowled darkly.

"Jeez, Lex, just drop it!" Clark groaned. Lex was too inquisitive for his own good. As good as it was for the corrupt world of corporate business, such prying was invasive and unwanted in Smallville. A change in conversation was definitely needed. "I think Mom said she's a history major. Maybe you two can talk about old dead white guys."

Lex just arched an eyebrow at that. "The vast majority of human history is not full of 'old dead white guys,' as you so tactfully put it. And besides," Lex sniffed a bit, "Metropolis University is hardly known for the quality of its history department."

"So says the man who got kicked out."

Lex laughed, pushing himself off the counter. "Thanks for the apple, Clark. I've got to be getting back to the crap factory—"

"Clark!" Mom's voice called down the stairs. "Get up here and assemble this bed!"

"—and it seems that you have some chores to finish up," Lex smirked.

Clark wouldn't mind being a boy billionaire if it meant he didn't have to ever do chores again. "Yeah, yeah. See you around, Lex."

Lex had a devilish little gleam in his eye. "Definitely. I'd like to meet this cousin of yours—even if her name is something so mundane as Kate."

* * *

**Free hugs and pineapples if you hit the review button. Seriously.**  



	4. They Will Miss Each Other

**Title: "Like a Melody"**

**Summary: "A pretty girl is like a melody/That haunts you day and night." A new addition to the Kent family is sickly, stubborn, and challenging. Lex Luthor does not like to be challenged.**

**Author Notes: ****PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER! Pineapples for everybody, especially WomanofMystery! Well, two worlds are about to meet as Kate and her father travel to Smallville. I hope you enjoy this, but be warned: _there is some cursing in this chapter!_ Nothing too scarring, but just so you know. And I do intend to stick to my chapter-a-day plan for the present. Hopefully.**

**This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Lala-Ness. She is one of my favorite writers and a loyal reviewer (and I swear, I will post the next chapter of _Lady Behind the Fan_!)**

**THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FANFICTION**

* * *

_**Chapter Four  
**_

_Fate will bring together those a thousand miles apart;  
without fate, they will miss each other though they come face to face._

_--Chinese Proverb_

Being a military brat, Kate had been on all sorts of roadways, in all sorts of towns and cities. From the curvy back roads of Kentucky to the traffic choked expressways of California, she had seen the lot. Having had such experience, she was pretty confident in her conclusion.

Country people drove like they were smoking some freaky weed.

That's not to say people in big cities don't drive crazy. They most certainly do. But the crazy driving in the city was a controlled form of chaos. In the country, there was no telling what kind of insane driving maneuvers you would see. And apparently, beat-up Ford trucks were the best thing since sliced bread.

Kate's foot was beginning to tingle as she struggled to keep constant pressure on the accelerator. The speed limit was universally ignored on this particular stretch of road, so it served no purpose to set the cruise control. In the past ten minutes, Kate's poor little Honda had gone from 70 to 45 back to 70, finally settling on her current speed of 55.

It just hadn't been a good day. Even the weather was overcast and depressing—a perfect reflection of how Kate felt. Packing up her room had taken so little time, much less than she had expected. It was pretty pitiful how everything you owned could be bundled away into two suitcases and four cardboard boxes. Standing in her bedroom, looking at the empty closet and empty shelves, Kate almost cried.

But she didn't. Kate left that up to Chris.

Judging by the look on his face, Chris looked more than willing to steal away in a box if it meant he could come with her. He had stopped by that morning to help her load her car, yawning and rubbing his eyes. No doubt he had been up late painting—not partying like her father suspected. Even the most flamboyant of men were wary of hitting on Chris when he smelled so strongly of turpentine; it sort of killed the mood. Kate didn't mind the smell—it reminded her of time when she wasn't sick.

Chris had given her such a kicked puppy look that morning. "I wish…that it didn't have to end this way."

Kate deigned not to look at him. "It's not the end, Chris. I have to come to Metropolis for class and for my appointments. And I'll call…"

"But it's not the same," Chris sighed, almost pouting. "You're my best friend, and I don't want us to grow apart. Maybe I'll come to see you."

Kate snorted. "I'm having some trouble envisioning you in flannel," she teased, glancing at Chris' present outfit of ripped hipster jeans, slightly smudged blue eyeliner, and some t-shirt fishnet concoction. Chris would give the locals fits of apoplexy if he ever popped by for a visit.

"I'll suffer the flannel if it means I can meet some nice country boys."

"I don't think you're going to find many," Kate challenged as she slapped some duct tape on top of a box. She shook her head a little, trying to get that particular image out of her head.

"I'd settle for bisexual. Or bicurious," Chris smiled. His face suddenly sobered. "Listen, you call me if you need anything—anything at all, got it?" Pulling Kate to her feet, he gave her a tight squeeze, burying his head into her bony shoulder. "I'll miss you, you little ingrate."

Kate blinked, trying to bat away the memory and the tear threatening to slip down her cheek. A few raindrops splattered the windshield. Well, at least Mother Nature was sympathizing with her. Kate flicked on her headlights and the windshield wipers as the drizzle became a summer thunderstorm.

At least the country drivers had enough consideration to slow down in the rain. Kate idly tapped her finger against the steering wheel, noting the mile marker. Only five more miles and then she'd be in—

Suddenly a black Ferrari sped by her, cutting sharply into her lane.

"Shit!" Kate cursed, slamming her breaks as the bumper of the Ferrari came dangerously close to clipping her. Her tires squealed in protest as they caught for traction on the wet roadway. "Shit, shit, shit!"

The Ferrari didn't even pause as it continued on its reckless course, quickly fading from view in the rain. "Holy fucking shit," Kate snarled angrily. Her cell phone started to ring, jangling loudly in her purse.

"What?" Kate snapped as she answered the call. The adrenaline rush was making her irritable.

"Kate, honey, are you alright? I saw that asshole cut you off—"

"Fine, Dad, just fine," Kate clipped. She really wished Dad hadn't seen that; he already worried enough about her health without having to add her driving to the list. He had allowed her to lead the way to the Kents' farm; clearly not a good idea in retrospect. "Probably some corporate hardass getting his jollies from the day."

"Did you see the plate?"

"It had a vanity plate, but I don't recall what it said," Kate replied, ready to get off the phone. Driving in the rain was bad enough, but she didn't want to be on the phone as well.

"Kate, you've got to pay more attention—"

"I was a little more concerned with not hitting his bumper, not reading it!" Kate yelled, thoroughly exasperated. "Good-bye. I will talk to you when we get to the farm." With that, Kate hung up and threw the phone into the passenger's seat.

Gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands, Kate exhaled slowly, trying to get over her adrenaline rush. Her legs were shaking still from the near miss. She laughed. How morbidly funny it would have been to have her life snuffed out in a car accident rather than languishing in a hospital bed with cancer! She laughed a little harder, almost hysterical. How fucking funny!

Getting herself back under control, Kate cruised into downtown Smallville as the rain let up, her father dutifully following in his car. It was…quaint. Like Mainstreet, USA with all of its country shops and parallel parking spots in front of the stores. Judging by the shiny parking meters, this place actually had meter maids. Kate rolled her eyes. This was worse than a tourist trap. This was a town stuck in the 1950s—probably still had a Farmer's Market on the weekends.

As she passed out of the downtown area, Kate picked up the directions to double-check the address. "Oh, that's not good," she muttered. All that her father had written down was Hickory Lane—no house number. She sighed tiredly. This meant she was going to have to cruise the length of Hickory Lane looking for their house.

Today just wasn't her day.

After scanning for a few minutes at the farmland on either side of the road, a yellow farm house loomed into view. A wooden sign proclaiming 'Kent Farm' hung over the driveway. Kate slowed and turned onto the unpaved driveway. Her Honda bounced and jarred, rattling Kate's teeth as she kept a tight grip on the steering wheel.

Kate parked her car as Dad pulled up next to her. He gave her an encouraging glance as he climbed out of the car, brushing off his shirt and looking over at the farmhouse. Steeling herself for the worst, Kate slowly got out of her car, tugging on her own shirt to get rid of wrinkles. She shouldn't be nervous; it was just some country-bumpkin family.

It didn't stop the sudden flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

The Kents stood on the porch, staring expectantly as she walked around the car. Her uncle looked so serious, like someone had shot his favorite cow or something. Aunt Martha—how was she ever going to get used to saying that?—looked friendly, but she still looked awfully wary of the approaching strangers. And her cousin…well, he was a farm boy, pure and simple.

Kate tried not to look too disappointed.

Dad clapped a hand on her shoulder as they walked up to the house. "Ready?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Kate looked up at the Kents as she reached the porch stairs.

"I hope so."

* * *

**Everytime you don't hit the review button, an author starves to death.**

**Think about that. **


	5. Beginning

**Title: "Like a Melody"**

**Summary: "A pretty girl is like a melody/That haunts you day and night." A new addition to the Kent family is sickly, stubborn, and challenging. Lex Luthor does not like to be challenged.**

**Author Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER! I had minor delay in writing this bad boy—what with the new _Harry Potter _book (OMG!) and because this was just a hard chapter to write (it's hard to dumb down all that medical stuff so everyone will get it). Sadly, no Lex/Kate scenes yet; probably next chapter.   
**

**THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FANFICTION**

* * *

**_Chapter Five_**

"_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."  
--"Closing Time" by Semisonic_

Martha stared.

There was no doubt about it—her niece was _blonde_. To say that it was a shock was an understatement. The last time Martha had seen Kate was at Anne's funeral, and the young girl had inherited her father's thick mop of black hair. That curly mass had been replaced by straight platinum blonde hair. With her ungodly white complexion, the color certainly looked natural enough. But it just wasn't Kate.

Sam and Kate stopped just short of the porch stairs, hesitant to take the last few steps. Considering whom her husband and son were, Martha knew she'd have to make the first move. "Welcome to Smallville," Martha smiled reassuringly as she descended the porch stairs. She held her arms out towards Kate, unsure if her niece was going to accept the gesture.

A shaky smile ghosted across Kate's face as she moved into the embrace, albeit stiffly. "It's nice to meet you, Aunt Martha."

Martha bit her lip. There had been a small quaver in Kate's voice when she had said Martha's name. Kate was obviously uncomfortable, especially using such familiar terms as 'aunt.' Martha released Kate slowly, patting her arm as Jonathan made his way off the porch.

"Jonathan Kent," he offered his hand out to Sam, who gripped it tightly.

"Sam Marshall. I can't tell you how much we appreciate this." Sam gave his daughter an inscrutable look. "Right, Kate?"

"Right," Kate mumbled, her eyes determinedly fixed on the ground.

Martha put her arm about Kate's shoulders and led her up the stairs. "Kate, this is Clark. He's going to be a sophomore this year."

Clark gave Kate a wide grin, "Yeah, I've got World Civ to look forward to this year. Since you're such a history buff, maybe you can help me out."

Kate gave him a mildly incredulous look. "I don't do people's homework for them."

Clark colored a bit. "That's not what I—"

Kate smirked a little, waving aside his stammers. "I'm just messing with you. Don't get so upset."

"I'm not upset, I'm just—"

"Why don't we go inside?" Martha cut in. Clark didn't looked entirely pleased with his cousin. In fact, she was a little surprised at Kate's sharpness. Anne had always possessed a quick mind and even quicker tongue, but her daughter seemed to be taking that legacy to the extreme.

Jonathan and Sam nodded their assent, and everyone made their way into the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye, Martha saw Sam give Kate a warning look. It did not bode particularly well.

Martha led the way into the kitchen, gesturing for Kate to make herself comfortable at the table. Clark followed his cousin warily, taking a seat opposite Kate. He still looked a little put put by Kate's comments, and Kate's unapologetic face did nothing to ease the situation. Jonathan and Sam, already absorbed in a conversation about the Metropolis Sharks, weren't helping much.

"How 'bout something to drink?" Martha offered as she pulled glasses out of a cabinet. "You looked thirsty."

"No, thank you," Kate answered in a disinterested voice.

"Are you sure? I've made ice tea."

Kate furrowed her brow. "Yes, I'm quite sure."

"Soda?"

"No, that's really—"

"Coffee?"

"You don't need—"

"Just pick something!" Clark laughed, mildly exasperated. "We even have chocolate milk, if that's what you're holding out for."

"I can't," Kate gritted out, "I'm anemic. Those drinks impair the body's ability to absorb iron." Kate looked away, her hair falling about her face. "I'm sorry, but I simply can't."

There was a long pause.

Silently, Martha turned to the sink and filled a glass with water, before setting it in front of Kate. Martha felt an odd tightness in her throat as Kate's grey eyes peered up at her. "You _do_ look parched."

"I'm allergic to water."

"What!"

Kate laughed suddenly at Martha's shocked expression—a nervous laugh, but laughter all the same. "I'm kidding." Kate took a dainty sip as Clark and Martha continued to stare. "Really—it was just a joke."

As Kate drank, Clark gave Martha a look that clearly said _Are you sure about this?_ Martha glared back in the affirmative. Now if she could convince herself of it…

"Well then!" Sam pulled out a chair beside Kate, "I suppose you've got some questions."

Jonathan and Martha took their seats on side of Clark. There was another long moment of silence as the Marshalls and the Kents stared at one another across the kitchen table. It was rather like the meeting of two superpowers.

Jonathan cleared his throat uncomfortably. Leaning back, he snatched a manilla envelope off the kitchen counter and tossed it into the center of the table. "So…what's all this about?"

Both Kate and her father stared at it for a moment before Kate made a move to open it . She extracted a thick packet of papers. "Did you, by any chance, read the information I sent?" Kate asked in a light voice that did not quite match her countenance. "Or at least skim the highlighted portions?"

Martha tried not to cringe. Jonathan did not look please at his niece's flippancy. "I am a farmer, not a doctor," Jonathan reminded her in an acidic tone, "Put it in context for me."

Kate did not flinch at the challenge in his voice. "I have AML—acute myelogenous leukemia. Leukemia is a cancer originating in the bone marrow, myelogenous means my body makes too many immature blood cells, and acute because it can kill me in a few months if left untreated." Kate's eyes flashed dangerously. "That enough context for you?"

Martha forestalled any of Jonathan's comments by leaning over to grip Kate's hand. Kate looked taken aback at the unexpected kindness—and a little suspicious.

"What are your doctors doing about it?" Clark asked, oblivious to the tension. He held the abandoned packet in his hands. "It's got all sorts of things listed…"

"It depends on what they're treating," Sam remarked dryly. Kate removed her hand from Martha's, her manner completely businesslike. "Most treatments—drugs and such—are just to deal with side effects or conditions that arise secondary to the cancer.

"Like the anemia?" Martha guessed.

"Right." Sam leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. "But that's a more serious than most. Usually the medications are for more temporary problems—nausea, loss of appetite and so on."

"What about chemotherapy?" Clark blurted.

For the third time, silence fell in the Kents' kitchen.

"Always the blunt one, eh?" Kate crooked an eyebrow at him. Even Clark's neck turned red to match his face. Kate sighed tiredly, running her fingers through her hair thoughtfully. Her face hardened.

Sam leapt forward as if burnt. "Kate, don't—"

With an almighty yank, Kate ripped off her entire head of blond hair off, exposing a perfectly bald head.

Martha didn't know how much silence she could take in one day.

"Y-you're…," Clark began weakly.

"Bald? Hairless? A follicle failure?"

"I suppose bald works," Clark said faintly. Martha felt as shocked as Clark. It was one thing to hear about the effects of chemotherapy; it was quite another to see it sitting across the table from you. Kate, despite her droll attitude towards her hair, shifted uneasily under the scrutiny of the Kents.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to save his daughter from further embarrassment. "Speaking of treatments," Sam pulled some papers out of the manila envelope, "here's the list of Kate's doctors…"

Martha allowed her attention to drift as Sam launched into a long-winded discussion of contact information and Kate's medications. Both Jonathan and Clark listened intently, while Kate busied herself with putting the wig back on. Noticing the agitated manner in which her hands shook, Martha surreptitiously watched her niece out of the corner of her eye.

On closer inspection, Kate didn't look sickly. She looked absolutely terrible. Of course, Martha hadn't been expecting her to be wholly healthy; she _did_ have cancer, after all. But still…Kate was a mere shadow of a person. Even with the sunlight peeking through the curtains, her skin was a pasty white, accentuating her thin face and sunken cheeks. The rest of her body didn't look to be faring any better. She stood at least 5'5" but barely seemed to have a hundred pounds clinging to her bony frame.

Suddenly, the reason for the blonde wig became clear. With such frightfully pale skin, a black wig would've looked fake, despite it being her natural color. Dark hair meant dark eyebrows and eyelashes, and Kate lacked both. The blonde wig deterred people from immediately noticing Kate's missing eyebrows.

Martha still wasn't overly fond of the blonde wig.

"…okay, Martha?"

Martha blinked, startled to find everyone looking at her. Blushing a bit, she smiled uncertainly, "What was that?"

"Dad asked if you wanted to take Kate up to her new bedroom," Clark supplied helpfully.

"We're going to stay down here, to work out the insurance," Sam gestured to Jonathan. He nudged his daughter. "Go on, Kate. I know the Kents put a lot of work into getting the room ready."

"No trouble at all," Martha said as she rose from her seat. She turned to Clark. "Why don't you unload the car? I'm sure Kate's got mountains of clothes to be carried in—teenage girl and all."

"You'd be surprised," Kate replied, getting up from the table to follow Martha. "Just be careful with the one marked 'fragile' on the side."

"Why?"

"Because, believe it or not, it's actually fragile," Kate told him, in a tone of voice that seemed to question Clark's intelligence.

"Right this way," Martha pulled Kate up the stairs, recognizing the stormy look on her son's face. Kate's heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as she followed Martha down the brightly lit upstairs hall. Struck by an unexpected trill of nervousness, Martha hesitated, her hand hovering at doorknob. "Well," Martha said, "I hope you like yellow!"

She pushed the door open, revealing the sunlight guest room. Newly cleaned and cleared of all of the Kents' accumulated junk, the room was a bright sunshine yellow with white wood furniture. Martha gestured encouragingly for Kate to enter the room. Her face utterly neutral, Kate stepped into the room, slowly perusing her surroundings.

In the afternoon light, Kate seemed almost translucent. She was so thin and frail that the light almost shone through her. The yellow walls enhanced the pallor of her skin, making her appear skeletal. Standing alone in the middle of the room, Kate looked very sick, very petulant, and very alone.

"Do…," Martha struggled to find her voice, "do you like it?"

Kate wandered over to the twin bed, running her fingers over the comforter. "It's fine. Very yellow."

"Here's the first box," Clark's voice floated up the stairs. Martha moved out of the way as Clark squeezed past her, a large cardboard box easily balanced in his hands. Setting it down in the center of the room, he quickly exited with a roll of the eyes, knowing he'd have to take his time carrying each box.

Kate knelt down, tugging the box open to reveal a tightly packed collection of books. She quietly began to pull them out, arranging them about her. Martha, feeling rather useless, offered, "Would you like some help?"

"No, I'll manage," Kate murmured, stacking the books.

Turning to leave, Martha glanced back at her niece. Kate was idly stroking the spine of a particularly thick tome, her expression distant. Martha sighed.

This was going to be difficult.

* * *

**Click the review button for a Lex striptease. Don't click it...Lionel'll strip. **

**No one wants to see that.**


End file.
